Progress

Last night I had a phone conversation with my fertility doctor. "Why a phone call?" you may ask. Well I have to talk to him on the phone because he's in the US.

If you haven't been following me for long, let me catch you up. We used a US based fertility clinic to add Frostina to our family. The reason we used a clinic in the US instead of one here in the UK is because there is a severe shortage of egg donors in the UK.

In the US the rules and regulations are different and as a result there are plenty of egg donors available. Lots of people from the UK go to Europe for donor eggs, but since we're American the US felt like a better fit. It's also a lot more expensive and takes longer to fly to, but it was worth it.

My doctor asked about Frostina and how my pregnancy with her went. After I filled him in on all the details and answered a few questions about my general health and monthly cycles he said we're fine to move forward. They still have The Hubby's "contribution" on ice so he won't have to do anything. I think he was a bit disappointed because he really liked the clinic's "collection room" which I wrote about back in 2011.

My next step is to have a saline sonogram at a clinic here in London. After that The Hubby and I have to get updated infectious disease tests done (HIV, hepatitis, and a couple more I think). We have had these tests done several times already, but as anyone who undergoes any kind of fertility treatment knows, they have to be within the past 12 months. Which means ours have expired.

After that we will be given access to the clinic's donor database and we go from there. Sadly, the donor we used for Frostina is no longer available and we have no more frozen embryos. I would have liked to be able to use the same donor this time so any sibling would be 100% genetically related, but alas this will not be the case. I suppose in the long term this is not a huge deal, it just would have been nice not to have to go through the selection process all over again.

Best case scenario, I could be booking a date for a transfer in 3-4 months. Though I think realistically it will take longer than that. These things always do.

So it's a long way to go, but at least we have some progress.

The Heart Says Yes, The Head Procrastinates

We finally came to the decision to try for another baby. It's not an easy decision by any means. It took lots of soul searching and listening to my heart, which finally said yes.

So that's it, right? Well maybe not. You see, I'm mostly a logic driven person so listening to my heart is not something that comes easy. Once I was done listening to my heart, my head had to kick back in to work out all the details. After all, we can't just go off birth control and see what happens.

*Insert me laughing hysterically. "Come off birth control? I haven't been on birth control in 10 years. If I was going to accidentally get knocked up it surely would have happened by now!"

No, this trying again will involve doctors and egg donors and flying halfway across the world for treatment. This trying again will be expensive and stressful. This trying again will be a concerted effort on my part. So that's where my head has to step in.

And my head still has fears.

Shortly after making the decision I sent an email to our US based clinic to get the ball rolling. I asked if our donor was still available and also about pricing changes. The reply came quickly. No our donor is not available anymore (so sad about this) and no the prices have not changed much. I just need to give them the go ahead and they will set the process in motion.

So did I reply immediately to get things started? Of course I didn't. Instead I found a million and one reasons not to reply to the email. First I told myself that we should have all the money in place first. Then I told myself that I would do it tomorrow. Tomorrow turned into tomorrow and so on. Until over a month had passed.

The Hubby asked me last night when I was going to send a reply to the clinic. I told him I would, and I finally did. Today I sent an email with a few follow up questions and told them we're ready to start the process. I'm not sure what my head was thinking, but it's time it stopped procrastinating and got a move on. After all, we all know that any IVF cycle, especially one using an egg donor, takes forever to get rolling.

And I'm certainly not getting any younger.

I Finally Made Chili Again- And Nobody Died

You're probably reading the title for this post and thinking to yourself, "What on earth is she on about?" So I will give you a bit of background.

If you're a long time reader of my blog you may remember this post. It was written just over a year after my son died and was born. In it I was reflecting on my journey to find my new normal. I also shared a story about how I was no longer able to make chili after his death. If you've already clicked on the link to the post then you know why chili became a grief trigger for me. But it you don't want to do that then I will give you the short version.

I made a big pot of chili for a BBQ the night before I found out my son had died. When I got home from having received the horrible news, practically the only thing in my fridge was the huge pot of chili. As part of all the preparation for going back into the hospital to give birth to my son the next morning, I had to deal with what to do with said chili.

I have been unable to make chili ever since. The Hubby has asked me several times and the result has been anxiety and tears. I know it seems silly, but that's just the way it's been.

Until now.

Last week The Hubby told me that his employees were going to be in town and he wanted to have them over for another BBQ. He gently asked if I felt ready to make chili again. Apparently they have been asking for it every time they are in town. I know I should be flattered that almost 3 years on they are still talking about my chili, but up until now it's not been something I wanted to face.

This time when he asked I felt none of the old anxiety; none of the dread; none of the sadness. I didn't burst into tears or flash back to that place where I was back home with my dead baby inside me trying to figure out what to do with a big pot of chili. Someway, somehow, this huge trigger for my grief was just gone. Instead of being a trigger, chili was simply something to feed guests at a BBQ.

I don't know how it happened, or when, but I now have another piece of my old normal back.

It was a bit of a challenge to remember exactly how I made it as I had also thrown out my recipe. But I managed to piece it together and I have to admit that it tasted really good. Everyone loved it and most people went back for seconds.

So there you have it. I finally made chili again- and nobody died!

The Heart Says Yes

A while back I wrote about my struggle to figure out if I'm brave enough to try for another baby. Am I strong enough to put myself, and The Hubby, back to into such a vulnerable place?

A place where we could be blessed with another living child. A place where we could also have another loss. A place where we have to have faith and patience. A place where we have to be optimistic in the face of fear.

We have been there before and have our precious Frostina as a result, but will we have the same happy outcome again?

Being a logical person, it can be difficult for me to stop strategizing and start feeling. As we all know, there is nothing logical about wanting children. It's much more primal than that. We are programmed with the desire to have them, or not to have them.

Do you have 1 child, do you have 2, do you have more than that? These decisions are often more of a gut feeling than anything else. There isn't a formula for the perfect family size. I think you just know when you're there.

As I've stated before, I'm not always good at listening to my gut feelings. So for me, these kinds of decisions take time. I have to stop thinking about it and wait for my heart to speak to me. That's what I've been doing and my heart finally answered loud and clear.

 

The heart says yes.

Still Not Crawling

Am I failing her?

That's the question that's been in the back of my mind lately.

Am I failing Frostina? Am I a good mother? Am I doing it right?

The Hubby is constantly telling me what a great job I'm doing. Frostina is eating well, and sleeping well, and happy most of the time. And yet the feeling that I'm doing something wrong still plagues me.

Why am I worried?

She's almost 10 months old and still not crawling or pulling herself up. She can sit very well and loves to stand up when I pull her up. She can even balance herself for a few minutes while she is standing against the couch. But I have to put her in position first. She knows how to roll over yet she rarely does. Basically she stays in one position until she gets bored. Then she complains a bit until Mommy comes to the rescue.

She has hated tummy time from the beginning. It was only a month or so ago that she would tolerate it for any length of time. I've been trying to put her on her tummy a lot lately and it seems like when she's in the mood she can go for quite some time before she gets unhappy. She can rotate herself around in a circle and sometimes pushes herself backwards a little bit, but still no crawling.

Everywhere I go I see babies younger than her scooting, rolling, army crawling, bum shuffling (I love that expression), and full on crawling. I see them pulling themselves up and trying to couch surf. I watch Frostina get frustrated when she can't reach something she wants. I watch her sway from side to side on her belly, not being able to figure out why that doesn't propel her forward. Some days she's desperately unhappy because she's stuck in one spot. And yet still no crawling.

I have tried everything I can think of to help her along. I lay next to her and hold toys out of reach. I place my hands on her feet to encourage her to push against them. I have tried putting a towel under her belly and suspending her in the air so that her knees and arms touch (she hated this one by the way). I praise her when she pivots around, and yet still no crawling.

Lots of people tell me I'm lucky because once she starts moving I will never be able to sit down again. In my head I know that babies develop at their own pace. But deep inside I worry that it's something I've done. Have I let her spend too much time in the jumperoo? Have I been too nice by always rescuing her when she cries. Is this a sign that she's somehow developmentally delayed? If so then what on earth have I done wrong to cause it?

Ugh, this Mommy guilt is killing me.

Not So Far Away After All

Lately I have been feeling like my son is very far away. I don't mean my grief. My grief is never far away, even after over 2 and a half years. I mean that I feel like he is far away. Slipping into the background. Slipping into the shadows. Like he's somehow getting lost in the hustle and bustle of normal life.

Far away from my everyday thoughts. Far away from my everyday life. I still think of him every day, but it's different now. Now that my everyday thoughts are filled with Frostina. My everyday life is full of taking care of her basic needs. Feeding her, changing her, washing her bottles, washing her clothes, taking her places,,,, it is all consuming.

Which often leaves little space for him. So he gets pushed back. Away from my everyday life. Until he feels so very far away.

But then something small happens, and he's back. Right there. Front and center. As if he never left the middle of my heart. As if there was never anything besides his loss in my life.

This time it was a simple comment made by someone who had no idea what she was saying. Something she probably says a million times a day without even thinking about it.

I take Frostina to Gymboree classes (which she loves by the way). The current term is about to end and they are running a special if you sign up early. You get a discount and four free classes. I was asking the lady if the four free classes are part of the normal term, or if they are four extra classes on top of what you normally get. The woman explained that they are above and beyond the normal term. Bonus classes she tells me.

"You can either use them for her, or if she has any siblings you can let them have the classes."

If she has any siblings.... if she has any siblings. That sentence echoed in my head. If she had any siblings, like let's say her older brother who died before he was born. If she had an older brother who she could play with instead of just hearing his name. An older  brother who could actually play with her instead of just being able to play with the teddy bear that was meant for him.

If she had a living brother, then he could use the extra four classes.

But she doesn't, so I guess she will just have to use the classes herself.

I was overwhelmed with sadness. Her far away brother, the one who I feel is fading away, will never be able to use her extra Gymboree classes. He can't play any active role in her life, because he isn't here. And I was reminded just how sad that makes me.

I'm sad that I will never know him. I'm sad that The Hubby will never know him. But I'm even more sad that Frostina will never know him.

The tears came and I did my best to fight them off. I mean seriously, who cries at Gymboree? It took a few minutes but I eventually won the battle with my tears. And I'm pretty sure no one noticed, or if they did they were too polite  to say anything. 

That's when I realized, maybe he's not so far away after all.

Listening To My Heart

So do you want to try for another baby? It's a question I've been pondering for quite some time now. Back in January I wrote in depth about all the different things racing through my head.

The key phrase there is "my head" as opposed to "my heart." That post was full of my logical brain trying to work out the best path forward. I usually make my major life decisions using my head. I don't know exactly why, it's just the way I'm wired. Mostly it has guided me well, but sometimes my head can get itself all confused and really run me in circles. 

So over the past few months I've stopped pondering. I decided to see if I could figure out what my heart wanted. The problem for me is that my head is so loud that it's hard to hear what my heart is trying to say. I get so lost in the logic that I can't hear anything else. In order to listen to my heart, I have to make a conscious decision to just stop thinking so hard.

It took a while for my head to just shut up already. I occupied myself with other things, other projects, and things that needed to be done. Finally convincing my head to think about something else.

And now, here in the silence I am hearing a tiny voice. My heart, which is mostly drowned out by my head has something to tell me. At the moment it's still just a feeling. My heart takes it's sweet time you know. But this feeling I'm getting is that my heart wants very much for us to try again.

Hearing this, my head kicked right back into high gear with a million questions. What about this? What about that? Aren't you scared? 

This time I'm not going to answer my head just yet. I'm going to take a bit more time so I can listen to my heart. I'm hoping the message will be clear to me soon enough.

The "Me" Before

She was telling a story. Remembering things from the past. Talking about how much fun I am. Talking about how I throw the best parties. Telling everyone that I'm such a good cook. Saying how she was so happy to be moving back to London because she and her husband really missed us. They missed us because we are such good friends and we are so much fun.

Who is she? She is a friend that I met when I first moved to London almost 8 years ago. She was friends with me before tragedy hit. She was friends with the old me, the "me" before. She moved away a month before my son died. In fact, she delayed her departure so she could attend my baby shower. That was the last time she saw me until a few weeks ago.

Who was she telling her stories to? She was sharing this information with some of my new friends. Friends who didn't know the "me" before. As she was walking down memory lane, sharing stories about fun times and crazy moments I could see looks of wonder on the faces of my newer friends. I could tell that they didn't recognize the "me" that was being described in the stories. In a way, neither did I. That person seems so far away now.

It's been just over 2 and a half years since my precious baby boy died. A lot has happened since then. I have come out of the fog of early grief and despair. I have gone on to have my rainbow baby and know the joy of parenting a living child. I have slowly and deliberately carved out a new life for myself, a new normal.

I am no longer frozen in time. I no longer count each day without him. I no longer cry for hours every day. I suppose it's fair to say that I have moved on with life. I have moved forward to a place where there is still some sadness, but there is also much joy.

But I am forever changed. You can't go through something as devastating and soul destroying as losing a child and come out the other side the same person. It's just not possible. Moments like this create permanent marks in our lives. There will never be a time when I go back to being that person. There will always be "The Me Before," and "The Me After."

I don't think too much about the person I was before my son died and was born. I guess that's because it's been such a tough road to get to the person I am today. I'm still in the trenches trying to find my way to a happier place. So I rarely look back anymore.

But this week I caught a glimpse of the "me" before when I listened to her stories. And I really missed the woman I used to be. They way she talked about me made me remember just how full of life I was. How idealistic  and positive I was, even in the midst of an almost 8 year battle with infertility. I had a joy for life that I haven't been able to recapture just yet.

It was quite an interesting evening. Sitting with a mix of old friends and new friends. Friends I knew on either side of the tragedy that was my son's death. Two very different sides of the same person. I could see that my new friends did not entirely recognize the woman she was describing. The "me" before threw a lot of parties and cooked up a storm, the "me" after has much fewer parties and hardly ever cooks for her friends. The old me would never turn down a chance to socialize while the new me sometimes does.

It got me a bit nostalgic about the past. I know I can't change anything. There will be no magical transformation back to that fun loving, much less complicated person. But maybe I could try and bring a bit of the fun back. Not just for them, but for me. There was a time when I loved having people over. There was a time when I loved cooking for friends. Perhaps I need to try and recapture that feeling.

Perhaps it's time for me to invite some friends over for a BBQ sometime soon.

When To Drop The "Dead Baby" Bomb

I've been blogging since a few months after my son died and was born. Along the way I have connected with other bloggers who share my story. There is a special bond between us, we are sisters in grief. Many of us have gone on to have our rainbow babies. Some have stopped blogging, but a few of us have continued. It's been nice to be able to see how other BLM's are dealing with life after our rainbows are born.

I was particularly touched by something Laura Jane wrote recently. She wrote an amazing post about living in the everyday after losing a baby.  So much of what she said hit home with me. How do you live each day for the rest of your life where your first baby died? I won't try to recreate her thoughts here because she did it so well, so make sure you click the link and read it for yourself.

The part that really got me thinking was about how everything in her current life is the way it is because her firstborn son died. It's so true. Everything about my current life is the way it is because my son died. Nothing in my life now would be exactly the same if he had lived.

Yes, I have my rainbow baby now and to the outside world I'm sure I look just like every other new mother. Only I'm not. For the longest time I surrounded myself with familiar friends. Friends who know my story. Friends who don't ever need an explanation for why things are the way they are. Safe friends.

Now that Frostina is in the world I'm doing lots of new things. I've entered the world of "Mommies and Daddies." I'm in a playgroup and have even joined a Gymboree class. All the things I dreamed of doing with my son but never had the chance to do. I'm finally living the life of a parent who has a living baby,,, and I'm loving it.

The issue though is this. None of these people know my story. So within the course of the normal "getting to know you" conversation I have lots of landmines to step over. Sometimes I catch myself telling a pregnancy story and about halfway through I realize I'm talking about my first pregnancy, not my second. When people find out Frostina was born via C-section and was early and they ask why I still struggle with the answer. Sometimes I say it's because she was transverse (which she was). Sometimes I say it's because my pregnancy was high risk but I don't elaborate. And in very rare instances I tell the truth.

I just never know how much to tell. How much to disclose about my personal tragedy. After all, new friendships are fragile. If you come on too strong, or too fragile, or "too much drama," you can be written off before you have a chance to get to know someone. But if you wait too long then you can seem fake or insincere. So what to say, and when to say it is a struggle for me. 

I mean, when is the right time to drop the "dead baby" bomb?

When is it the right time to start seeing those looks of pity and relief that it's your story and not theirs written on the faces of people you hardly know?

When is it the right time to freak out and scare off people that you may want to build a friendship with?

When is it the right time to be reminded that once again, you are "that women" and not just another normal new mother?

When will there be a time when I don't feel the stigma, and taboo, and silence that surrounds stillbirth?

When will I ever get used to this new normal that I'm living?

So Now Formula Feeding Your Baby Is As Bad As Smoking?

Is feeding your baby formula as bad as smoking? Are mothers who don't breastfeed causing serious harm to their children's health? Should baby formula packaging come with a warning label similar to the ones found on cigarette packs?

Sounds crazy right? But according to a report published by the charity Save the Children, that's all true and is exactly what should happen. I'm not going to link to them but you can look them and their report up if you want to.

I read through the report, not all 75 pages of course, but I did read it. I focused mostly on the section where they talk about the makers of baby formula. Here's what I gleaned from my read-through.

• The evil manufacturers of baby formula have to figure out a way to get women to buy their clearly inferior product. 
• They are competing with a product (breast milk) which is not only superior in every way, but is free. So they really have their work cut out for them.
• These evil companies are resorting to dastardly tactics in order to accomplish this goal. 
• These dastardly tactics include
• Advertising their products. (the horror)
• Giving free samples to midwives and new parents. (how dare they)
• Giving free gifts with the company logo to health care workers, i.e. pens, pads of paper, and such. (round them all up and throw them in jail now)
• Something must be done to keep these evil companies from promoting their "poison" onto new mothers.
• One reason something must be done is that these companies are offering something that costs money and many people don't have the money to buy this evil baby formula. 
• After all, breast is best.

So their solution? Require all breast milk substitutes to have a warning label stating all the reasons why feeding this product to your child is a terrible idea. This warning label should be at least one third the size of the packaging. That's right folks,,,, one third the size of the package.

A huge label that shouts, "You are a terrible mother/father if you feed this to your baby!" "If you feed this to your baby you will probably ruin his/her health for life!" "So you better pop that boob back out and try again, because if you can't breastfeed then you are damaging your baby forever!"

Ok, I'm sure the label won't say those words specifically. I'm sure they will be all official and much more scary. I also know that the result of those words will make Mothers like me, who were unable to breastfeed feel even more guilty and horrible than we already felt the first time we opened a package of formula for our babies.

Plus, baby formula packaging already contains a disclaimer that says breast milk is best and that formula is a breast milk substitute. In fact, on the website for the brand I use (Aptamil) you have to click a disclaimer that says, "Breastfeeding is best for babies and provides many benefits. It is important that, in preparation for and during breastfeeding, you eat a healthy, balanced diet. Combined breast and bottle feeding in the first weeks of life may reduce the supply of your own breastmilk, and reversing the decision not to breastfeed is difficult. The social and financial implications of using an infant milk should be considered. Improper use of an infant milk or inappropriate foods or feeding methods may present a health hazard. If you use an infant milk, you should follow manufacturer’s instructions for use carefully – failure to follow the instructions may make your baby ill. Always consult your doctor, midwife or health visitor for advice about feeding your baby." before you can even view what products they sell. So why the need for a bigger warning label? 

I know that this charity mostly focuses on women and babies in the developing world and I think a lot of the work that they do is pretty great. But the things they recommend should (in their opinion) apply around the world. Which means these warning labels would be placed on all baby formula packaging in the UK and Europe, and in America as well.

Reading through their report I learned that in some places women don't know they should try to breastfeed within the first hour. In some of these countries they think they should feed their babies all kinds of strange things. There are also cultural issues that prevent women who may want to breastfeed from doing so. So I get the focus on education and the idea that breastmilk is best.

I also read in the report that the baby formula companies are targeting the developing world as new potential customers. They seem to spin this as a travesty. My opinion is that if women in the developing world have trouble breastfeeding, like I did, then isn't it wonderful that there is another option for them? That instead of these babies being fed cow's or goat's milk, or something else that is unsuitable for newborns, they can obtain a formula that will sustain their baby?

If a woman can't breastfeed and lives in a place where no suitable breastmilk substitute is available then what happens to that baby? My guess is that he or she will eventually die of malnutrition. So what's wrong with advertising an available option that could be the difference between a healthy baby and a dead one? And considering that the slogan for Save the Children is, "No Child Born to Die," you would think that they would want families to have every available option to be able to feed their children properly. Instead, they seem to be pushing the "only breastmilk will do" agenda.

I don't normally get involved with what I consider to be controversial issues here. Partly because it's not really that kind of blog and partly because I don't always want to "stir the pot" or in any way contribute to the drama that surrounds these kinds of debates. Especially when the debate is about breastfeeding vs formula feeding.

My take is that people should do what works best for their family. Not every Mother can breastfeed, and not all babies can either. Some women opt for breast feeding only, some opt for formula feeding only, and some do a combination. In some cases these are conscious decisions, and in other cases there was no option. In my opinion, these are very personal decisions and it disgusts me when people get all high and mighty and preach that their chosen way is the only way.

So the idea of putting a warning label on baby formula that is at least one third the size of the package? A label that lists all the things that are wrong with feeding your baby formula? A label that will make parents who are doing everything they can to take care of their babies feel awful? A label that would have made me feel even more guilty and inadequate about not being able to breastfeed than I already did? A label that at the moment is only put on things that are poisonous? A label like the kind you find on a carton of cigarettes?

I don't think so.